What If I Fall Along The Way?
by PwnedByPineapple
Summary: This time, the gentleman loses to the hero, and it isn't the only loss. Character death. HetaOni-based, no spoilers.


**Title:** What If I Fall Along The Way?  
><strong>Author:<strong> PwnedByPineapple  
><strong>Summary:<strong> _This time, the gentleman loses to the hero, and it isn't the only loss. Character death. HetaOni-based, no spoilers._  
><strong>RatingWarning(s):** T; character death  
><strong>Notes:<strong> Not HetaOni canon. I'm sure there were dozens of time loops, so this could have taken place in any one of them. Also, quotes at the beginning are all from HetaOni.  
><strong>Recommended Listening:<strong> "If I Fall" by The White Tie Affair

**Disclaimer: This fangirl owns nothing.**

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><p><em>"A gentleman is always ahead of the hero, you know."<em>

_"If you pass out, I'll carry you on my shoulders and run."_

_"I was a hero, wasn't I? I protected you, didn't I? I could be a hero... couldn't I?"_

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><p>England waits.<p>

He waits for the idiot to get back up, he waits for that obnoxious voice to start prattling on about heroism, he waits and waits and vehemently denies the icy hands of dread that have gripped his insides.

The monster has only just faded. The others are recovering from the battle, shaken, getting to their feet... all except for one. England think he's the only one who realizes it, at first, but...

Canada has gone pale, very pale, so deathly white that Japan instinctively grabs his arm, steadying him. "Canada-san!" Japan says in concern. "Are you hurt?"

But Canada is staring in horror at the only one of their number who hasn't yet risen, and England tries once more, feebly, to deny it.

"America..." Canada whispers, and England's efforts are shattered.

He's done waiting.

He lurches forward, takes a few stumbling steps, and in panic fairly collapses beside the still body, crouching down and gripping America's shoulders. "America!" he shouts, turning the young nation towards him and gazing in despair at his bloody face. "Get _up_, you stupid git!"

But America's eyes remain closed, and he doesn't even respond when England gives his shoulders a shake, and suddenly England finds that the world has become blurry.

"You never _listen_!" he cries. "Never! Not when I ask you to get up, not when I tell you not to protect me, not when I tell you a damn thing, and _don't you dare die with a smile on your face!_"

Because America has the faint trace of a satisfied little smirk, as if he is pleased, as if dying when England should have instead is somehow a good thing. But it's _not_. There's an invisible hole in England's chest to mirror the all-too-real one in America's, and England is sure that under no circumstance are those parts of the body supposed to see the sickly light of this goddamned mansion, and _oh God, America_...

"Why do you _always _have to play the fucking hero?" England sobs, drawing America close to him and closing his eyes lest the flow of grief make him blind with it.

The nations around them are frozen, fixated on the sight; Canada isn't even able to keep his feet, such is his shock, and the only reason he hasn't collapsed is because France and Japan are holding him. Not one of them is willing to disturb the scene of grief before them, but the evil atmosphere that had descended on them earlier has not left, and it's only a matter of time...

"_Mon ami_," France says softly. "We must go. We cannot linger."

"Shut up!" England snarls, suddenly wrathful, and his head whips around to shoot France a glare as he grips America protectively. "Just shut up! Do you not see that America is _dead_? Do you _care_?"

"Of course I care!" France says heatedly. "Don't think for one second that I don't care about that boy! But we can't stay here!"

England opens his mouth to spit out an answer, but Canada's shaking voice stops him. "Please," the North American nation whispers. "Don't fight. Not now."

Canada pulls himself out of the steadying hands of France and Japan and comes forward, crouching down opposite England and reaching out a trembling hand to America, to rest it in America's hair. England can't look at the living twin, can't bear to see the accusation he fears is waiting for him there.

_He died protecting __**you**__,_ says a snide whisper in the back of England's mind.

"England-san," Japan says calmly, rationally. "France-san is right. That Thing is not dead. It will be back any moment, and I do not think we can face it a second time. Please, we'll bring him with us, we just need to-"

"_Let it come_," England says venomously, turning back to America. His little brother... his _dead_ little brother. Once again, England has failed as an older brother, and once again, America is the price he has to pay for his weakness... only this time, it is so much worse.

He brushes a few stray bangs out of America's face. _Stop smiling, you damn bastard,_ he thinks, and even this thought catches in his throat, nearly cripples him. _You damn hero._

There are sudden, surprised gasps around him, and England doesn't have to look up to know that the creature has returned. He at last turns his eyes up to meet Canada's gaze, half-expecting to see blame, but Canada's anger is not directed at him.

They nod, once.

_"Big Brother! Big Brother!"_

England rises to his feet as Canada does the same. England's eyes narrow in hatred; they are burning, unimaginably angry, and as he looks at the Thing, at its ugly grey countenance, the fire in his eyes intensifies.

_"You're a hero, aren't you, Big Brother? I'm gonna be just like you! I'm gonna be a hero!"_

_I'm not._

_"Looks like you've got nothing on the hero, England!"_

_I don't, you pain in the arse, moronic, goddamned **hero**._

Blue-green light arches from his palms and envelops his hands as he faces the Thing. "Well?" he says, glancing from side to side, looking to his fellow nations as Canada steps to his side. "Are we going to fight this Thing or let it kill the rest of us?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. His eyes slide back, rest for a moment on America's unmoving form, and then he wrenches his eyes away, looks forward once more, straight at the Thing. Unflinchingly, his gaze meets its soulless black eyes.

_I will destroy you._ England wants to scream it out in all the impossible grief and rage he feels in that moment, but he remains silent, raising a glowing hand as all around him, weapons are drawn, prayers are said, and nationly determination and revenge is turned against the creature that has them trapped there, that plays games with their very lives.

And it's the aching loss and sorrow that drives England forward to attack with all of his fury, in vengeance for the little brother that he failed to protect.


End file.
